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20 Edward Hopper Study: Room in New York The woman’s finger hangs above the F key. She always wears the same red dress. The man’s hands cup the newspaper edge, his face ashen, half-edible. The woman’s back to the man, head down, her arm, dairy and bloated, long before men preferred peeling brown shoulders, the midriff. She can’t leave him, doesn’t know how. How many times have you heard this? You will hear it again and again, like the F key that in a moment will glaze the room with its throbbing mouth. ...

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